


Roll The Dice

by Nanimok



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: A small small drabble about time travel, Established Relationship, Everyone is a cat, Fluff, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Tim being a troll, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/pseuds/Nanimok
Summary: Fluffy drabbles about Tim and Jason. Cross-posted on tumblr.





	1. Lost in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Jason accidentally gets sent back into the past, to a time before he and Tim got together.

“We’re together, aren’t we?” Tim asks. “In the future.”

Slowly, as if threading around an animal quick to flight, Jason puts down the newspaper on the kitchen table.

His face reveals nothing, but his eyes hold a spark of curiosity.

“What makes you say that?” Jason asks.

 _A couple of things, actually,_ Tim reflects. The way Jason has seemed to carve out a space in his house in a manner of minutes, when the current Jason has only been to Tim’s new place a grand three times in total, is one of those reasons.

Future Jason stumbled out of a warp of bright light two days ago. By some accident on his end, he explains. He and his outlaws was chasing a criminal known to mess with the fabrics of time, and Jason became a victim of his wayward attack.

Tim had considered that Jason had traveled diagonally through the multi-verse, but this Jason—future Jason, as his head calls him—assured him that he remembered this happening in his own past. Two years ago, he recalls, so this Jason is two years older than their current Jason.

Which is funny, since present Jason took one look at future Jason and bolted before anyone could catch him. He’s been avoiding his future self ever since, and that so happens to include Tim.

Tim’s a bit sulky about that.

Fear of himself? Maybe, but he can still be here and not talk to his future self. Fear of paradox? Possibly, but the universe does a marvelous job of repairing any tears in time by itself. If future Jason wasn’t meant to be here, then he wouldn’t have been able to be sent back in the first place.

That leaves only Tim as the reason Jason hasn’t visited. Future Jason has plastered himself to Tim’s side after stepping out of the time warp.

For some unknown reason, Jason’s avoiding him.

Tim sighs as he pops in bread in the toaster.

“Tim.”

Startled, Tim turns around—

—and finds Jason caging him in against the counter. Jason is all heat and tight muscle wrapped in a thin cotton black shirt, the warmth tickling the hairs on his arms. Jason’s own arms are only a thumb width away from brushing up against him. Tim cranes his neck up, and wonders how someone could look so refreshed after spending a night on his couch.

He breathes in aftershave, sharp, sweet, and refreshing, and shudders out a breath.

“What are you doing?” Tim asks quietly.

“Grabbing your attention,” Jason answers, amused. “You have a penchant of getting lost in that head of yours, from all those whizzing thoughts going a million miles per hour. So tell me, Tim. What makes you think we’re together in the future?”

Jason leans closer to Tim, probably expecting Tim to press back into the counter, but Tim’s not one to back down.

“Statements like that,” Tim says. “Knowing the code to Redbird’s garage, something I only ever tell Cass. Being more relaxed around me. That small body twitch, when you stop yourself from initiating contact with me. Constantly invading my personal space,” he points out, rather primly.

Jason laughs. “Got a point there.”

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he accuses.

 _Or even trying to back off,_ Tim thinks, heart racing and throat drying.

Tim should move back, he really should move away, but they’re so close that Jason’s breath is fluttering against his skin, leaving it tingling. Jason seems to savour the small distance between their lips—looking down at him with a heat that makes it hard for Tim to swallow.

“Why should I? We both know you’re right,” Jason says. “Now, listen up. I’m about to tell you a story.”

One hand, no longer at the counter, slides a blazing path onto his waist, the other to under his chin. His thumb, calloused and rough, strokes the bottom of Tim’s lip, and Tim thinks that this is it, Jason’s going to kiss him.

God, Tim really wants him to.

He noses into Tim’s cheek instead, leisurely skimming his lips down Tim’s cheek.

Tim can feel the words forming as he talks.

“A couple days after this incident happening in my timeline,” Jason says, “you tackle me in my safe house and wrangle me into a date. One date becomes two, and two becomes three. And now it’s been two years and we’re still going strong. Now, I thought it came out of nowhere. How did you even know that I’ve had it pretty bad for you for months now? I’ve always thought that future me did something to convince you to ask me out.”

Leaning into his touch, Tim closes his eyes, focusing on the rumble of Jason’s voice.  

“Now, I’m future me, and you’re standing here looking soft and rumpled from sleep, and I think to myself, ‘How could I have _not_?’”

Jason tilts his head, dipping his head closer. Leaning forward, ready to meet him, Tim has a brief moment where he rejoices in his head— _finally!—_

—for Jason to kiss the corner of Tim’s mouth.

“I figured I’d leave this,” Jason’s thumb taps against Tim’s lips, “for you to share with your own Jason.”

Then Jason reaches behind a gaping Tim to grab himself a piece of toast, before heading back to the table to read his newspaper. 

-


	2. JayTim The Last Jedi AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one Reylo scene in The Last Jedi, but with JayTim.

Darkness is not unfamiliar to Tim—he’s never been afraid of what lurks behind the darkness. No, it’s the isolation that weighs him down, the implication that nothing and no one else is there. No one is waiting for him. It’s just him, and if he ceases to exist, then so be it. No one else will be affected.

No one else will care.

Tim has been a scavenger his whole life. First, it was food and shelter, then parts and people. Now, he’s searching for answers.

Answers about his past, about where he came from. Answers about the Force, and this restless energy inside of Tim that’s been brewing since ever since he can remember. It’s disconcerting; to feels so _foreign_ in his own body, and he wants to know _why_ him? Why a nobody like Tim—

And _why_ , out of everyone in the whole galaxy, does it pull him towards _Jason?_

Tim touches the wall of ice in front of him, the tip of his finger kissing the frost fogging his reflection. Behind the cracks that line the wall, a blurred shadow moves.

His heart races as the shadow grows larger.

“Show me,” Tim says quietly. “Show me my parents.”

As if by magic, the fog disperses. The image sharpens into focus until a nose, a mouth, a pair of blue eyes—so familiar it strikes a gut-wrenching note in him—appears and Tim finds himself staring at—

—himself.

All breath rushes out of him, and tears begin pricking out. It feels like he’s falling, even more than he was when he was pulled into the hole. Every time there’s a semblance of hope, of finding the smallest answer for closure, nothing ever comes from it, and he’s left in the dust.

It’s always like this.

At the end, he’s always by himself.

—

“It was stifling, a bit, but small spaces never bothered me that much. I’m used to it now. In front and the back, I could see a line of just… _me._ Every action I made—I could hear it coming and I can see it going even as the thought of executing the action forms. It was…” Tim breaks off, “…weird.”

Wet hair sticks to his skin, and he’s almost mumbling from the cold. Yet, there’s warmth licking at his skin, partially from the fire crackling in front of him and the cosy atmosphere of rain outside his temporary brick residence.

In front of him, Jason hasn’t taken his eyes off of Tim. Every other noise is muted, as it always is within their connection, and Tim wonders how he went from calling Jason a ‘murderous snake’ to _this_ —to confessing and confiding between quiet whispers in the middle of the night.

Tim breathes out. “I’ve never felt so alone.”

“The past does nothing but weigh you down. The things you’re lacking in becomes more obtrusive and undeniable with each reflection.”

“That’s not true,” Tim denies.

“It is,” Jason says. “Let the past die, and move forward with no hesitation.”

“No.” Tim shakes his head. “One doesn’t have to be obliterated for the other to flourish. That’s how we’re alike isn’t it? We’ve both darkness and light within ourselves, and we’ve seen how they can coexist. Change can still happen while the balance is kept. The past can still be reconciled and carried into the future—”

Jason snorts. “Carried. Like a dead weight.”

Tim stumbles to a stop. He purses his lips and looks down at his hands.

“We are the product of failures,” Jason says, not unkindly. “People who failed to be teachers, people who failed to be parents. People who failed to be _both_ when we needed them to be _.”_

“The Jedi—”

“Doomed themselves because of their hubris,” Jason interrupts. He leans closer. “They couldn’t see themselves fall, so they did.”

“I don’t agree with what Bruce did,” Tim says. “I won’t disagree that he failed you, but serving under the Supreme Leader?”

Jason’s jaw hardens. “Consider it another way of killing my past.”

“He would never let you reach your true potential in fear of you surpassing and overthrowing him.”

“And Bruce has taught you so much, hasn’t he?”

Tim stops short, once again, because Jason has a point. Bruce has possibly engaged with a rock more than he did Tim.

Glancing up, Tim is caught by the scar running down Jason’s face—the scar slashed into his face by Tim’s own hands. It starts from his cheekbone and travels all the way down to his jaw, and Tim feels the sudden urge to reach out and touch it.

What would it be like to run his finger down Jason’s scar? To give a measure of comfort, for once, instead of hurting each other like they usually devolve to?

Every time they’ve been hurt—either by each other or by the people meant to guide them—they’ve been left to heal by themselves.

But maybe they didn’t have to.

Jason’s eyes flicker down his face, and Tim doesn’t back down with his staring.

“But you’re right about one thing,” Jason says. “You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you,” Tim says.                                        

It was the way that Jason said it—the way his voice dipped into a rasp—that urges Tim holds out his hand. Slowly, he reaches out to Jason. His hands are bare; bandage-free with his all his scars and callouses free for Jason to see.

Jason offers one of his own. Shaky, and a little tentative, his hand uncurls as he gets closer. His reach is careful. Reverent, Tim thinks, of the little orbit they’ve caught each other in. After revolving around each other for so long, maybe they’ll find it here—a place and a sense of belonging in the space between all matters.

In a soft brush of skin against skin.

The moment they touch, his whole body tingles. Tim is assaulted with images—with conviction and surety that blazes a path through his body and summons a vigorous beat in his heart.

He sees Jason and him facing an army of towering beast made of thick steel and lasers. Red rocks, sparkling and small, rises around them despite the lack of draft. They stand side by side, Jason’s red lightsaber glowing to an intensity that matches Tim’s blue.

And Tim knows that he’s not the only one seeing this. Seeing how they’re united in their front, or how they can be.

Together.

_This is how it’s meant to be._

“No!”

At Bruce’s yell, rocks crash around them. Tim is slapped out of his vision, and out of his bond, falling backwards as rain begins drenching him awake, and Jason’s image disappears as a rock slashes across his body. Bruce is standing in his doorway, horror escaping with every heavy breath.

“What were you thinking?” Bruce asks. “That’s right, you weren’t! Pack your ship, I want you gone by—”

“Was it true?” Tim asks. He scrambles to a stand. “Did you try to kill him, the night he burnt your school down?”

Bruce snaps his mouth close. He turns around and walks out the doorway, leaving to Tim to chase after him.

“I don’t need this,” Bruce says. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Despite the cold, Tim grows red hot with anger. “Yes, you _do!”_ he says, voice cracking from anger. “You _created_ him. You _created_ Kylo Ren!”

Batman turns around, enraged. “I did _no_ such thing.”

“You tried to strike him down while he was _asleep_ —while he was your _apprentice_. I could feel it through the bond, Bruce. He wasn’t lying. Now I want to hear it from you.”

Bruce stays silent, even as his eyes are hard as stone, and Tim searches for any small sign accusing Jason for this deception.

“You’re not denying it,” Tim says in disbelief.

Bruce’s shoulders slump. “Tim—”

“Why?” Tim asks. “Why did you do it? You were—”

_My hero._

“You were supposed to guide him,” he tries again. “He was your _apprentice,_ he was given to you because he had no one else.”

All at once, Bruce’s stern countenance crumbles, and his grey hair stands out even though it’s night time.

“It was a moment of weakness and cowardice,” Bruce confesses, exhausted. “A moment I’ve regretted ever since. There was so much _darkness_ in him. So bleak and overwhelming that his descent would be inevitable. It threatened to consume and destroy everyone I loved. My lightsaber called to me, whispered that with just slash, I could end it all. I could _save_ so _many_ …but I couldn’t do it. And shame flooded in me afterwards; at the thought of killing an innocent boy for something he hasn’t even done. By then, it was too late. Jason had already woken up.”

Tim can see it in his mind, the image Jason weaved before. Of the betrayal, fear, and ultimately, anger had twisted Jason’s face before he lifted his hand to bring the roof down around them.

Bruce stares down at his hands. “I haven’t wielded a lightsaber since.”

“He can still be saved.”

Clenching his fist, Bruce turns away from Tim, again, and begins walking towards his house. “You’re believing only in things you want to believe in.”

“I’m believing because I saw it, Bruce,” Tim says. “I had a vision when I touched him, and he was fighting on our side. For _us._ And I felt it. There is conflict in him. If I can convince to fight for us, we can win the war!”

“Jason is gone,” Bruce says, walking up the stone steps. “He’s too entrenched in the Dark side. The moment you let your guard down, he will sever you in half. I want no part in this madness.”

The door closes on Tim.

“That’s fine,” Tim mutters to himself. “That’s a-okay. It’s not like I need you anyway!” he yells at the door. “At least I’m doing something about this war!”

His voice rings out to no avail. The door stays closed.

—

Admittedly, shipping himself right to Jason in a tomb-like escape pod is a bit much, even when taking a leap of faith.

But there has to be a reason why the connection exists. Jason’s conflict tore at him like a ravenous beast, and his wounds echo off of Tim. He hurts, but he doesn’t have to heal alone. Tim will be there with him.

Having Jason on their side can be the deciding factor of the war. Tim has to try.

Their pod lands, and Tim can see Jason without his helmet. There’s the scar Tim gave him, and his eyes remind Tim of having solid feet on the ground, admiring the sky after long stretches of travel through the galaxy.

But then Jason steps aside, and behind him are two stormtroopers.

One of them holds out a large, blocky handcuff.

—

The blinding white that flickers as the elevator rises is a stark contrast to the comfortable companionship they settled on last night. Behind him stands Jason, face stern and unrelenting.

It’s a little painful to see Jason this way when the image of him in front of the fire is still fresh on his mind.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tim says, turning around, moving forward into Jason’s space with no hesitation. “People won’t accept you when you first start off, but they will when they see you fight for us. It’ll be hard to start again, but you won’t be alone. I can help!”

That’s what Jason wanted right? For Tim to move forward without hesitation. He’s craning his neck, but once again, Tim refuses to back down with his stare. He wants answers because—he thought—

“I’m only doing what we agreed on in our vision,” Jason says carefully.

“Then _why_ are you taking me to the Supreme Leader?” Tim asks, a bit desperate. “Didn’t you see us, standing together, side by side last night?”

“I did.” A slight dip in Jason’s eyebrows. “This is the first step to proving yourself.”

_Proving himself?_

Tim searches his face, and he looks—Jason looks _earnest_ about what he just said.

Dread starts to build in Tim’s stomach.

Swallowing, Tim asks. “What did you see last night?”

“I saw us standing united as we tore through the battlefields for the Dark side,” Jason says, not letting his eyes stray from Tim’s face even once. “And we were _glorious_.”

Then he brings his hand up, gloved instead of bare, and hesitates for a second, before brushing the edge of Tim’s jaw with the back of his finger.

“We _will_ be glorious,” Jason corrects.

And for Tim, it’s like the floor has crumbled beneath his feet. It feels like he’s falling again.

Turning around, Tim moves closer to the door and tamps down his panic as he prepares himself to meet the Supreme Leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: tim, softly, but with feeling: fuck!!!!


	3. Pulling Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Tim knows that his boyfriend is the Red Hood and decides to do what anyone else would do in the same situation.
> 
> He messes with him.
> 
> (Poor Jason.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sort of Identity Porn AU. I really, really love Identity Porn AUs.

It wasn’t even Jason himself that led Tim to the dawning realisation that his boyfriend is the Red Hood. No, it was Dick visiting from out of town, Nightwing suddenly appearing in Red Hood’s turf, and one iconic quadruple aerial somersault that tied it all together.

From there, the rest of the identities cascaded like falling dominoes.

Tim’s not a Gotham native—his family moved when he was fifteen—but he doesn’t need to be to follow the media trail surrounding the Wayne Family and connect it to the appearances and disappearances of Gotham’s vigilantes.

Then, once the connection was made, it’s so hard to _stop_ seeing Jason in the Red Hood.

Not going to lie, Tim was a little hurt about Jason keeping it a secret from him, but he sat down and thought about it, and he eventually saw the necessity of it.

Doesn’t mean that Tim can’t mess around with Jason though.

“Do you walk all the detectives back when they’re meeting your informants?” Tim asks. “Or am I just special?”

“You’re special,” Red Hood says. “A special pain in my ass.”

Tim resists the urge to smirk.

“Folks get uneasy when there’s a detective around,” Red Hood continues. “Figured I escort you in and out as quickly as possible to make it painless.”

Jason’s such a fucking liar. He didn’t start accompanying Tim around the place till they started dating.

Such a softie.

Although, Jason does lead Tim through the areas where there are little to no street cameras, for obvious reasons. They’re dark, poorly lit, and almost always alleys. It’s nice to be able to walk through the area without his usual wariness tightening his shoulders.

“And here I thought you were turning over a new leaf.”

Red Hood barks out a laugh. “Keep dreaming.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to arrest you,” Tim tells him. “But I decided not to since if you were going to do something nefarious, you would’ve done it before we got this close to the station.

“Nice to know you’ve got a brain behind that pretty face of yours,” Red Hood says, amused. “I’m not the type to tell others how to do their jobs anyway.”

Tim slants a look at him. “I’ve got someone who’d take issue with you talking like that.”

 _“Really?”_ Red Hood sounds delighted. “You do, do you?”

“Yeah. He’s tall, bulky, sharper than a tack, and he could probably flip you over his shoulder with his eyes closed.”

“Is he?”

“He’s a great shot,” Tim insists. “And a low-key goody two shoes. I bet he can outdo you as a marksman, _and_ do it with a registered gun and licence.”

Red Hood snorts. “I really doubt that.”    

But he does sound pleased. Which is good, because Tim’s just reeled out the bait, and Jason bit it.

“He kind of reminds me of you,” Tim says, watching closely at Red Hood’s reaction. “Rough around the edges. The obscure one liners. Kind of shady, and a bit of an asshole at times—”

“That _thing_ I said about you having a brain? Yeah, I take it back,” Red Hood says. “Not a smart idea to be insulting a crime lord when you’re alone in an alley.”

Tim laughs, actually _laughs,_ at the underlying sulkiness from his statement.

“You’re chatty today,” Red Hood observes. “You don’t usually divulge this much information.”

And if that is a subtle reminder for Tim to stop, Tim ignores it. He’s having too much fun.

“I guess I am,” Tim agrees. “Maybe I’m just really happy today. I’ve always considered us on good terms—felt like we’ve bonded through all arrest attempts and cases we’ve worked on together. Unofficially, of course. Which is nice, since I’ve been feeling restless lately. Around this special guy of mine.”

Red Hood falters in his step, if only for a millisecond. “You have?”

“Yeah, I have,” Tim says. “Figured it’s time for a change. For something exciting.”

As they’ve been talking, Tim has been taking care with inching closer to Jason till their shoulders bump with every step. Walking side by side like they’ve been doing it all their lives. When Tim stops, Jason follows, and they’re close enough that Tim has to crane his neck up to catch his gaze.

He lets his eyes flicker down to where Jason’s mouth would be under the mask, and dwells in the silence and how he can see the small rise and fall of Red Hood’s breathing. Slowly, carefully, as if he’s holding himself back, he bites his bottom lip while never breaking his stare.

Red Hood tenses. He definitely took note of that.

Good.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at,” he warns, and it’s a small step away from a growl. “I’m not interested and I don’t think your _boyfriend_ would _appreciate_ —”

“I’m going to ask him to move in with me.”

Red Hood bumbles to a stop. “Wait, what?”

“I’m going to ask him to move in with me,” Tim repeats.

Red Hood seem to be lost for a reply.

Which is fine since Tim’s only getting started.

He lists off his fingers. “I mean, it’s ridiculous,” Tim says. “He spends most of his time at my place anyway, and he doesn’t even have a _key_ yet. He leaves his stuff all over the flat, hogs the blanket when we’re sleeping, knows my kitchen better than I do and— _and_ —he’s even kidnapped _more_ than _half_ of the space my wardrobe. At this point, he’s basically paying rent for a room he’s not using. And I like having him there—maybe it’ll be easier to finally tell him I love him if he’s always around—”

“You _love_ him?” Red Hood asks, voice a bit squeaky.

“I do,” Tim says, a little dreamy. “I really do. Sorry. I tend to ramble when it’s—”

The implication hangs between them. _When it’s something I deeply care about._

Even though his helmet does not allow for expression, Tim can imagine the deer-in-headlights look twisting Jason’s face.

Tim savours every second of it.

Outside, he plasters on his soppiest smile.

Inside, he’s cackling harder than a hyena.

“You know you’re in deep when even his flaws are appealing,” Tim says, chuckling. “I’m not perfect either, but he seems too good to be real. He amazes me. Everyday. Nothing about him is a deal breaker. Unless—” Tim breaks off, humming tentatively. “Unless, he hasn’t been completely honest about who he is to me. Not that I don’t respect his right to keep his secrets, but I often interview the spouse of a criminal only for them to be confounded at partner’s behaviour or dodgy side dealings. Imagine if he kept a whole side of himself secret from me. In that case, I don’t really know him at all, do I?”

Tim pins Red Hood down with his worried look, and Jason seems ready to break out into sweat. He hangs the terse silence between them for one long, sweet second before breaking out into a smile.

“But that’s just me being silly,” Tim says.

“Right.” Red Hood’s swallow is audible. “Just you being silly.”

“My boyfriend is an honest guy,” Tim says. “Earnest, and more sincere than I can ever aspire to be. If he kept anything like that from me, I’d be…”

“You’d be…?”

Tim shrugs. “Devastated, I guess.”

“ _Devastated_?” Red Hood asks, voice shaky.

“Yeah, devastated.”

Peeking around the corner, Tim makes a show of checking for cameras, before facing him again. “This is where we part; I can see the station from here,” he says. “Hey, I appreciate you walking me, Hood. You’re not a bad guy, and I enjoyed our talk. Really puts some things into perspective.”

Red Hood nods at him, and the movement is strained—unfamiliar and rigid where it’s almost always fluid.

Throwing one last smile, Tim turns the corner and walks to the station. He whistles once he passes a lamppost.

Later, when Jason has calmed down and checks his pocket for a piece of gum or spare change—and he always does; he’s a sucker for chillidogs—he’ll find the note Tim managed to slip in when he was sidling up close to the Red Hood.

The note with a message scribbled in blue pen, and a key taped to it.

A key that unlocks Tim’s flat.

_I meant what I said – T.D_

Jason has a lot of explaining to do when he gets home, and Tim’s probably going to need to do a lot of reassuring about his feelings being genuine despite putting Jason in the hot seat.

But Jason being the Red Hood?

Definitely not a deal breaker.

 


	4. What Would Selina Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick thinks Jason is cheating on him. Dick is horribly wrong.
> 
> Stray!Tim + Identity Porn

To make the jump from Tim—button up, sweater vest wearing, dutiful Tim—to Stray would be quite, to quote Jason, _wild._ For one, Tim wears his glasses and, as shown daily by Clark Kent, glasses are quite possibly the most powerful cloaking device for people wanting to hide their alias. Secondly, Tim embodies the other side of Stray, the other side of what it means to be feline.

In short; the impromptu fights between Tim and inanimate objects, the irregular napping schedule and constant desire to sleep, being particular and finicky about his things—as his friends likes to complain about—and _more_.

Stray, most of the time, is Tim’s extrapolation of Selina’s personality. Stray is what happens when Tim asks himself, ‘ _What would Selina do?’_ , and then tailors the most assuredly _graphic_ answer into something age appropriate and more suited to Tim’s style.

Stephanie used to be an exception to the tailoring, but now it’s only Jason.

So when Dick seats him and Jason down with a stern hand and a hardened jaw, the first thing that Tim thinks is, _He knows._

Jason, back straight and shoulders rigid, bounces one knee beside him. A nervous tic that only comes out when Jason’s around his family. Tim puts one hand on his knee to settle it, and Jason leans into him in response, a comforting weight on Tim’s side.

Oddly, this makes Dick frown harder. He grabs a chair and sits across from them.

“Is something wrong, Dick?” Tim asks.

“Yes, actually, there is,” Dick says. “I’m here because one of us is keeping a secret. A _hurtful, damaging_ secret. A secret done in a heated moment under the obscurity of the night, and one we should lay out because it threatens to destroy everything one might hold dear.”

They both stiffen. Tim shifts his weight to his heels, ready to bolt.

“So, let’s get this over with,” Dick says. “… _Jason,_ do you have something to say for yourself?”

A moment of silence as the question sinks in, then confusion.

“Wait,” Jason says. “You’re asking _me_?”

“Yes, I’m asking you,” Dick says. “Don’t you want to explain to Tim, your _boyfriend_ , what you were doing last night when you were p—uh—we were out at the bar?”

“Out at the bar, I wasn’t—” Jason breaks off, throwing a look at Tim. “Yeah, I mean, I was out at the bar.”

Right, Tim wasn’t supposed to know that Jason is the Red Hood and Dick is Nightwing, even though Jason knows that Tim is Stray along with knowing that Jason is the Red Hood, and Tim knows that Jason knows that Tim knows.  The problem is that Dick _doesn’t_ know that Tim knows, and Dick _doesn’t_ know that Jason knows that Tim knows—

Carrying on.

Tim plasters on an appropriately concerned look on his face.

“And last night?” Dick prompts.

“Last night I was…?” Jason asks. “What was I doing last night…?”

“You were making a mistake,” Dick continues. “A huge mistake. A mouth on mouth mistake, with somebody that’s _not_ your _boyfriend_.”

Tim eyes widens, because he finally understands.

He was there, after all. Last night, during his patrol, Jason was caught by Nightwing. Jason was caught with legs wrapped around his waist, and a mouth exploring his own as he was shamelessly making out with Stray—

—with _him._

And what a good night it was indeed.

“Jason,” Tim asks, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. “Is this true?”

If his voice, shaky with laughter, is mistaken to be shaky with despair by Dick, well then…

“I—” Jason tries, a bit desperate. “I guess…I did. I cheated on you, Tim. Last night. I’m…sorry.”

Tim looks away, because if he keeps staring at the helpless look on Jason’s face, he might start laughing.

And his heart is bursting with affection. Jason is keeping Tim’s identity a secret. Jason is keeping Tim’s identity a secret at the cost of having his family question his integrity.

Jason is such a sweetheart.

Dick sighs, folding his arm. “I don’t want Jason to make the same mistakes I did in keeping as secret, and I’m asking you to hear him out, Tim. Because it’s clear to everyone that you love each other.”

Tim loves this family. This stupid, sweet family.

Time to set everyone straight.

He stands up from his seat. “Thank you, Dick,” Tim says sincerely. “Please,” he cuts in as everyone almost jumps to their feet, “don’t stand on my account.”

Then he throws his legs around Dick and straddles him in his seat.

Ignoring Jason’s indignant squawk, and Dick’s frozen stature, he slowly runs his hands up Dick’s chest and down his belt in a silent worship of the delectable body hidden Tim knows Dick is hiding underneath his dress shirt. Dick is all the heat and toned muscle under his roaming hands, and Tim leans in, savouring panic that’s quickly growing on Dick’s face, before breathing in Dick’s sharp cologne with his eyes closed.

He exhales with a soft, satisfied smile. Eyes half-lidded, he turns so that his mouth can brush up against Dick’s ear.

“You’re so sweet, Dick. Always worrying about me,” Tim purrs—actually purrs—into his ear, low and sultry, letting his tone slide off  Dick’s skin like silk.

Dick swallows his throat.

“But you’ve got it all wrong,” Tim says. “Jason wasn’t cheating.”  

Then Tim presses Dick’s wallet and keys onto his chest. The same wallet and keys Tim manages to slip out of Dick’s pocket when his hands were roaming and Dick was too distracted to stop Tim.

Dick gapes at him.

Patting Dick’s cheek, he swings himself out of the seat. Two seconds later, button-up, straight-laced Tim is back.

“Now, please excuse me,” Tim says. “I have work to do.”

Catching Jason’s eye—and Jason is red-faced, and looking so uncomfortable that Tim wants to laugh—he leaves the room. Moments later, Jason catches up with him.

“I know you were proving a point,” Jason says. “But did you really have to straddle him like that?”

Jason sounds sulky. Tim grins at him in response.

“Aww, Jay, you know you’re the only one for me,” Tim says. Standing on his tiptoe, he give Jason’s jaw a quick kiss. “I was just doing what Selina would do in that situation.”

Jason sighs, melting from the kiss. “I know. I know,” he says. “She’d be damn proud of you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams fist on the table* I really love Identity Porn AUs.
> 
> And all the commenters... ;_; I appreciate your sweet comments and I will reply to them...someday... _*sweats*_
> 
> There's fanart for this fic [here](https://khachalala.tumblr.com/post/175667074717/fa-for-what-would-selina-do-by-fatcatsarecats) by khachalala on tumblr! Thank you so much khachalala! Their drawings are so lovely ;;w;;


	5. Mastermind Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's office is stormed into one morning, and in walks a mobster and the Red Hood. 
> 
> (Warnings for morally dubious!Tim, guns and mild depictions of violence.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow,,, another slight Identity Porn AU??? Who could have guessed. This one has a bit of action though.

Two days and Tim has yet to feel comfortable in his seat as Head of Drake Industries, when his office door slams open and men he’s never seen before in his life comes barging in. His office is by no means small, but as seven men in invade every corner of the room—with their guns trained at him—it’s a little constricting.

Tim can tell that today is not going to be a good day. He tamps down his racing heart, and hold his hands up when they start shouting orders at him.

Agostino Maroni strides in all his tall, willowy commanding glory, with his hands in his pocket and wearing a suit that rivals Tim in price. A prominent member of the mobster family that burned Two-Face. Behind him, Jason follows.

Or more aptly, the Red Hood.

It’s only because Tim has been dating Jason for two years that he can spot the minute signs of surprise faltering his arrogant stance into something a little more rigid.

Jason fills out his brown leather jacket in a way that makes his eyes linger in appreciation, before Tim remembers—oh, that’s right; Tim’s not supposed to _know about_ his boyfriend's nightly vigilante activities. The same way he's not supposed to know about the weapons Jason straps under his bed for emergencies. Jason Todd, with the strong and broad shoulder, is most definitely _not_ the Red Hood.

And Tim most definitely can’t imagine the alarm widening his eyes under the mask.

Agostino raises one eyebrow. “You’re new,” he says. “What? They’re letting little kids run big multi-million companies now?”

Tim keeps his hands up. “Can I help you, Mr…?”

“Maroni. Agostino Maroni.”

He strides to Tim’s table, flipping over Tim’s carefully stacked papers, weighing Tim’s letter opener in his hand—invading Tim's space and disrupting his careful placement with a destructive kind of ignorance as a dare for him to react. He picks up Tim’s ceramic pencil holder moulded into the shape of a dinosaur, and turns it in his hands for inspection, before dropping it from his hand.

It shatters as it hits the floor.

Tim stops himself from gritting his teeth, and he can see Red Hood’s finger twitch to refrain himself from doing the same.

Jason bought him that when Tim first got an office of his own. Rex the Dino has been an honorary part of Tim’s work table for years.

It is the knowledge that they definitely needed Tim for something, since they didn't kill him straight away,, that weaves enough steel into his spine to brave a clipped question.

“Was that really necessary, Mr. Maroni?” Tim asks.

Agostino smirks. “Yup.”

Red Hood growls. “Stop wasting time, Maroni. Other people’s got shit to do after this. Kid, where’s your boss?”

“Red Hood,” Tim greets, almost warmly. “I’m a big fan. If you’re looking for the head of Drake Industries, you’re speaking to him.”

“Huh,” Agostino says. “Harkness finally croaked, didn’t he?”

“He resigned quite recently,” Tim says. _Reluctantly. Unwillingly. That or Tim hands the police enough dirt to send him to maximum security._

“We haven’t announced the change publicly. I wasn’t aware that he was working for the Black Mask,” Tim continues.

Agostino snaps his fingers in front of Tim’s face. “He was working for _me,_ ” he sneers. “And I so happen to have an agreement _with_ the Black Mask, but that doesn’t mean he’s running the show. Show some respect for your elders, kid.”

 _Did Tim offend him? Whoops._ Tim nods, resisting a smile. “Apologies.”

“You’re aware that Harkness skimped out on his last shipment?”

“No, I wasn’t aware,” Tim answers. “While Drake Industries subspecialises in weapons research, development and manufacturing, we do so in an official and registered manner. I suggest taking your concerns to Mr. Harkness—”

Agostino slams his hands on the table. “He promised me DI weapons while he was the head of DI. Now he bailed and we want it doubled along with a hefty late payment. And it’s better be hefty, or I give the call and there goes your employees; dead.”

Tim thins his lips. “Organizing an arms deal is not that simple, Mr. Maroni.”

“Make it that simple,” Agostino says. “You heard Hood over there, we don’t have time. Make it happen or we’ll get someone else to.”

He would ask for a guarantee in regards to the safety of his employees once this ordeal is finished, but he doesn't want to give Agostino ideas. In the corner of his eye, he can see one of the guards reach for his gun. Briefly, he catches Jason shift his weight to the balls of his feet, ready for a blood bath.

Normally, Jason against eight is nothing to worry about. Jason against eight while three of them surrounds a disadvantaged Tim, however, is not ideal.

“I can start arranging the arms dealing and transfer the money now,” Tim says. “But I’m going to need my hands and computer access.”

Agostino clicks his fingers above his head as he spins Tim’s computer monitor to face them. One of the guards by the window makes his way to Tim, but stops when Red Hood puts his hand out. Red Hood takes his place by Tim and drops a piece of paper—full of account numbers—on his table. When he places the barrel of his gun against Tim’s head, it’s almost a little comforting.

“Don’t do anything rash or funny,” Red Hood says, his tone flat and cold.

Tim is well acquainted with Jason's nuances enough to know that panic lies underneath his flat tone. With slow, clear clicks, and careful typing, Tim takes the roundabout way of transferring the money and arranging the arms dealing.

Keeping his eyes on the monitor, Tim says, “Are you aware, Mr. Maroni, that the Black Mask was the one who helped Janet and Jack Drake enter into the business, before signing off their deaths.” _With the help of Mr. Harkness,_ he doesn’t say.

Not all arms dealing is shady business. His parents, in their quest for wealth, prosperity and influence, just never got the memo.

Recognition flashes through his eyes. “You’re the Drake kid.”

“I am,” Tim confirms. “And I have been working here for years. Mr. Harkness narrowly escaped an assassination attempt before he resigned, and this was shortly after Mr. Harkness conducted a meeting by phone with an untraceable number.”

Agostino snorts. “Don’t patronize me. I’ve been playing this game longer than you’ve been alive.”

“So has the Black Mask.”

That cuts all amusement off Agostino’s face and he scowls.

But Tim can’t languish in the victory. One final keystroke and he’s done with the transaction.

“It’s completed,” Tim tells them. “In a couple of days, someone will need to get in contact with my assistant to confirm the rest of the details.”

“Good,” Agostino says. He stands up and heads to the door. “Shoot him, Hood. We can insert someone else in his seat.”

Both Tim and Red Hood freezes.

Then Red Hood visibly bristles. “I’m not your lackey, Maroni,” he says. “That wasn’t the deal, and that's not how I work.”

“He’s a little too strait-laced for my tastes,” Agostino argues. “He’ll run off to Batman as soon as we leave.”

“I said,” Red Hood growls as he walks around the table to loom over Agostino, “that wasn’t the deal.”

“I can be discrete,” Tim says. “I know how it’s done. I was Mr. Harkness’ apprentice, after all.”

That was all under the guise of collecting enough information to defame and overthrow him, but, _semantics_.

Tim tips his chin up. “This can stay between us, but I want something from Red Hood.”

“Ha,” Agostino barks out. “The _arrogance._ ”

“I know I’m not in the position to make demands,” Tim says. “But even if I’m a dead man, there’s no loss in indulging me in this one. I want a kiss. From Red Hood.”

Red Hood visibly stiffens. “You want a what now?”

“A kiss,” Tim repeats. “Just one kiss from Red Hood and you can deal with me however you like.”

“Odd request, but explains how you got high up so young. You’re right about one thing, though,” Agostino says. “Nothing wrong with indulging a dead man.”

Red Hood turns to Agostino. “Lift a gun against him, I dare you—”

“Please,” Tim pleads.  

He stares at Red Hood, willing him—willing _Jason_ —to trust him and come over, because Jason has always said that Tim has a glint in his eye when he has a plan, and Tim hopes he can see the glint now.

A moment of pause. Then Red Hood walks to Tim, his back to the door, so that the others wouldn’t be able to see anything of his face. He raises his mask up, and even though he wears a domino over his eyes, the sight of Jason’s face is like coming home after a stressful day of work.

He doesn’t know why some heroes bother with a domino. Tim would know the line of Jason’s jaw, the curves of his lips, and the rise his nose in his sleep. Tentatively, Jason cradles Tim’s face between his hands, and Tim, in return, slides his hands under the jacket and rests it on Jason’s waist.

That is when Tim starts tapping out his message in Morse code.

 _Do what you have to do,_ he says, and he slows down the tapping of the last word in emphasis.

_Jason._

Tim can feel the hands holding his face loosen from the tension, and Jason gives Tim the smallest of nods.

“Get on with it,” Agostino orders.

Tim can see Jason’s jaw harden.

Agostino is definitely going to die first.

Leaning in, Jason draws Tim into a kiss, a searing, frustrated, _relieved_ kiss, and Tim is almost tempted to laugh into it. He shifts his hip slightly so that one of Tim’s hand, still covered by his jacket, can curl around the grip of the gun strapped to Jason’s hips.

With his lips still pressed against Tim’s, Jason murmurs, “Take the left side.”

Jason slams down his mask, and a second later, they both draw out their guns to start shooting.

Tim focuses on the guards standing slightly behind them, the gun a heavy, loud weight in his hands. Two rounds and loud explosions and the guard goes down clutching his bleeding midriff.

Before Agostino can blink, he has a hole in his forehead that bleeds out red. His body collapses to the ground within seconds.

Tim can’t say he’s too bothered by Agostino’s death—he was a very unpleasant man, both in business dealings and in person. It’s hardly the first time someone’s died in front of him either. Tim’s seen too much in the years between acquainting himself with his parent’s legacy, investigating his parents deaths, and being George “Digger” Harkness’ apprentice.

And Tim has a feeling if they had let Agostino go alive, he would never stop chasing after Tim in order to satisfy his bruised ego.

That’s just not acceptable to Jason.

Jason jumps over the desk while Tim ducks behind it, and the room is filled with yelling, banging, thudding and crunching. Every time, someone raises a gun to fire at Jason, Tim pulls the trigger. Between the two of them they make quick work of the guards.  

The number of rounds Jason’s personalised gun holds is crazy, and Tim never wants this kind of thing to go into production with Drake Industries.

When it’s just the two of them standing, and the room is filled with the smell of gunpowder, groans and the tangy metallic smell of blood, Jason turns to him.

“We definitely need to talk,” he says. “Sorry about the carpet.”

Tim exhales a shaky breath and nods, trying to slide—as oppose to crash—down from his adrenaline adrenaline high. He's going to need to leave a generous tip for the cleaners. Bloodstains are ridiculous to clean off.

"It's fine," Tim says. "He was an unpleasant man."

"I had to deal with that for four months. Surprised this didn't happen sooner."

Swinging the gun in one hand, Tim offers it to Jason grip first. Jason, instead, pulls him by the elbow, and leans down to peck a quick kiss on Tim's lips.

"I got to clean up the mess outside," Jason says, more to himself. "Don't scare me like that ever again." He pauses, and as if he's decided to let himself get distracted, Jason steals another kiss.

Tim has to be the one to break it off. “Go. Make it up to me by making sure my employees are okay,” Tim says. “We can talk later.”

—

‘Later’ ends up being much, much, _much_ later. After the police interviews—in which Tim gave Commissioner Gordon points for trying his best at being intimidating—his office being closed up, and checking up with each section of his building, Tim ambles home exhausted.

Jason’s there—with _dinner_. Suddenly, Tim’s a lot more energized.

And Tim tells him everything.

“So you’ve always known, even during my Robin days,” Jason says, leaning against the counter Tim is eating his dinner on. “And silently laughed at all my bumbling attempt to hide it from you. Give a poor guy a break.”

“I thought it was endearing,” Tim says over his mouthful. “Hilariously endearing.”

“Still.”

“I was waiting for you to tell me yourself,” Tim says. “I thought you were close when you let me bandage all the wounds you got from ‘work’, but then months went by and nothing happened. So I thought I might try and surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Jason asks, a bit alarmed. “Surprise me how?”

“I know how you were trying to take over Agostino’s businesses by subtly turning him against Black Mask, to the point where Black Mask takes him out for you. Pitting two enemies against each other. That’s something I can do with Harkness as well—he’s secretly been their supplier for years. I’ve been slowly sabotaging his dealings, faking all the assassination attempts, planting evidence that implicated either Agostino, Black Mask, or both.”

“Back him into a paranoid corner, and he’ll lash out,” Jason says. “If he tries for Agostino or Black Mask and succeeds, then one of them’s gone and we win. If he fails, then _he’s_ gone and we still win. ”

“I also have five contingency plans in case all three band together,” Tim says.

Jason levels a look at Tim. “Of course you do. I'll admit, I should have told you earlier, but I’m not letting you off the hook for neglecting to tell me about your plan when it involves two of my enemies, Tim.”

“But I wanted to surprise you, Jay,” Tim says. “With Harkness gone and me in charge, that’s a lifetime worth of ammo you won’t need replacing. And in a way that's guaranteed Batman can't keep track of.”

Jason sighs. “You’re an evil mastermind.”

“I’m _your_ evil mastermind,” Tim says as he holds his hands out in grabbing motions.

Jason comes into the hug. “Don’t try to sweet talk me,” he scolds, even as he melts when Tim's arm snakes around his waist. “Honest to god, you scared me. The only reason I agreed to Maroni’s dumb plan was because I thought Harkness would be the one sitting in that office. My nerves went to hell when I found you sitting there. That could have been avoided if you'd let me in on that busy, whizzing head of yours.”

Tim buries his face in Jason’s chest, inhaling the sweet smell of soap and laundry detergent.

“Yeah, sorry for the scare,” Tim says. “Harkness thought I was working for the Black Mask. He was about to fire me, and I can't have that. He needed to go. Quickly.”

“I’m serious, Tim.” Jason squeezes his arm and drops a kiss on his head. “No more planning without me. We’re in this together, okay?”

Feeling safe and happy and a tad infallible, Tim smiles up at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay, we’re in this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Tim of this world was raised by a morally dubious Janet and Jack Drake, that are a bit more acquainted with the gangs of Gotham than they should be, to take over their not-so-legal dealings when he's old enough. They are assassinated by Black Mask, with the help of one of Jack's close friends, Diggery Harkness (Captain Boomerang), and Tim basically grows up trying to get revenge. 
> 
> Harkness doesn't know about Tim's eternal vow of revenge, but to ward off suspicion from certain people (Batman), Harkness takes Tim in as his apprentice as a sign of goodwill. It also works for both of them because 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' thing.
> 
> (I dig crime-boss boyfriends)


	6. Dubious!Tim and Dubious!Dick fighting over Jay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dubious!Tim and Dubious!Dick fighting over Jay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something me and [min](http://beta-lactamase.tumblr.com) have been working with. We both really love it when Tim and Dick manipulates everyone around them hoHOHO.

“Are you happy now, Tim?” Dick says, lip curled up in a sneer. “Jason killed him. You pushed him and he finally did it. He killed the Joker. Now, he’s not picking up any of our calls and he refuses to see us.”

“It sound like Jason’s made his decision,” Tim says. “I suggest that you all respect it.”

Dick clenches his fist. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Oh, I believe he does,” Tim says, tilting his head. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Knowing that he chose me over you.”

“Jason was doing better before you came. He was getting better.”

“He was pretending to be better,” Tim says. “Don’t lie to yourself. He never belonged with you.”

“You placed the gun in his hand,” Dick spits out, the rage lighting up his eyes. “You gave him those pills—those psychoactive drugs. You put these thoughts in his head—”

“You put Jason in the position where he was exposed to the Joker, and you expected him to walk away,” Tim interrupts, cool and untouchable. “You expected him to give up his anger when you can’t even do that yourself.”

Dick flinches and steps back. His face is blank of any emotion, but his jaw hardens the tiniest bit. His chest lifts and rises as he tries to control his breathing.

Tim didn’t even try to control his smile.

Jason came to him streaked with tears and blood that wasn’t his own. Broken by the limbo where he can’t win; dead or alive. A murderer of his own murderer. An outcast where he should’ve belonged. Rejected when he should’ve been accepted.

Condemned when he should’ve been loved.

Tim didn’t need to break Jason when his family does it so well. He only needed to cup Jason’s head in his hands, brush his hair out of his face, and kiss his tears away while Jason crumbled.

“You know what he told me—what he tried to tell me over his sobbing?” Tim says, each word as piercing as twisting a knife. “That it was the way you guys were looked at him that was his undoing. That he can’t win no matter what he does. That dying hurt less than seeing the disgust on your face.”

Tim steps forward, invading Dick’s space. This close, he can see how Dick is strained at the seams. How tense he is even while his body shakes from the weight of Tim’s word. Tim opens his mouth and breathes out, and can see how it flutters against Dick’s skin from the way his nostrils flares.

He wants to be one to break Dick’s steel control. He wants to be the one to uncurl his iron fist. He wants to push and push and push until Dick is so enraged that he shoves back.

“You think I didn’t know?” Tim says. “How you were playing Jason just as well Bruce did? Didn’t Jason lash out last time good ol’ Brucie tried to control him—tried to show him the Bat way of things? How do you think Jason will react when Jason finds out that you’ve been doing the exact same thing?”

“He won’t believe you,” Dick says. “I’ll erase any proof of it.”

Tim turns his head, and leans up closer. His lips brushes against the edge of Dick’s ear.

“He won’t need proof,” Tim whispers. “He just needs me.”

After all, Jason’s in Tim’s bed—

—and not Dick’s.

If Dick and Tim had only one thing in common, one mutual understanding, then it’s the truth of how Jason is just so, _so_ easy to love.

“I win,” Tim says.

He steps back, whistling as he leaves Dick simmering in his anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notice how tim never denied those accusations c:


	7. Jaytim as cats AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meow.

Tim might have grown in the lap of luxury, but he’s a tough cat. Jason will give him that. Jason, however, is tougher, bigger, and most importantly, _heavier._ No matter how scrappy Tim is, he’s still a small, long haired tuxedo compared to Jason’s bulkier, orange tabby self, and it’s fairly easy to get Tim to stop and listen to reason.

By flopping onto him.

“Jason,” Tim scolds.

He wriggles under Jason, flails a bit. His tail flicks angrily and Tim bats his paws at him, but the fact that Tim hasn’t fully unsheath his claws means that Tim isn’t _truly_ upset at Jason.

“Jason, get off,“ Tim says, his chest rumbling. "We need to go back.’

Jason nips Tim’s ears in reprimand. “Who’s the ‘we’ here?” Jason asks. “Slow down, house cat. Last time I checked I haven’t agreed to anything yet. And go back where, Tim? Do you even know _where_ you’re going?”

“I can find out on the way.”

“And risk those pound people catching you?” Jason asks. “You know no-feline ever sees the other cats the pound people catch! They’ll be looking for us, because they’re always catching cats without collars, Tim. Cats without collars like _us_.”

Jason shudders, even the thought of those pound people bristles his fur.

“I don’t know why’d you want to go back,” Jason says. “Humans only collar you and hurt you. One day, you think everything’s all right, and the next, it’s not. Then you’ll never know what you did wrong or why they abandoned you.”

“You don’t understand,” Tim says. “Dick is different.”

“You don’t even have his collar anymore,” Jason says.

“Doesn’t change the fact that he needs me,” Tim says, ears flopping. “He’s good human, Jay. He’s not like them. He gets really sad when no one is there. He _needs_ me. Who else will look after him when he’s sad?”

Jason can feel that Tim’s a droopy mess of a cat and Jason never meant for that to happen. He gives a sympathetic purr and rubs his cheek across Tim’s. Then, he sighs, rolling off Tim and arching his body in a stretch.

“Fine,” Jason says. “Let’s go find this human of yours.”

Tim perks up. “You’ll come too?”

Jason licks one paw and tidies up his fur. “Of course,” he says. “I know the alleys better than the back of my tail. Someone has to make sure you’re fed.”

Tim’s whiskers twitch in delight. He scrambles up and brushes his side against Jason in appreciation, before sitting on his hindlegs beside him. “He’ll want you too, you know,” Tim says. “Dick’s amazing like that. You can stay with us when we get there. We can look after him together.”

Jason grumbles. “No, he won’t”

“Yes, he will.”

“No, he won’t,” Jason says, more firmly. “I’m not a fancy cat with a pretty coat like you are. I’m not even a kitten. I’m just a dirty, scarred cat some human ditched in an alley.”

“I said he was different, didn’t I?” Tim exudes complete confidence. “Dick doesn’t judge by pretty coats. He plays with you, he talks to you, and he _always_ feeds you, even when I scratch up his ugly chairs. You’ll like him, I just know it.”

Jason still looks cynical, so Tim let’s his tail flick at Jason when he pads past him.

“You’ll see,” Tim says. “Dick’s good human, just like his dad, and Dick always said that his dad can never resist strays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this whole thing a set up for a joke about Bruce adopting strays? Maybe so. 
> 
> My fingers are itchy for a jaytim as cats au helping solve crime with Detective Dick and his brother Damian. I don't know where to start D:
> 
> Thank you for reading!! And for kudos and comments I love you all!!!


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